Manifest Destiny
by Foibles and Fables
Summary: Manifest Destiny: 1. The 19th-century doctrine that the United States had the divine right and duty to expand throughout the North American continent 2. Mark Sloan's God-given right to be with any woman of his choice. Hints at Mark/Lexie


**This actually started out as an AP U.S. History essay on Manifest Destiny, and, like everything else in my life, soon turned into something Grey's Anatomy. But, you know, I think I'll turn it in just how it is.**

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

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He's heard her name before, but he just can't seem to remember it. Taylor, maybe? Or Tracy? It definitely starts with a "T". In any case, it doesn't matter. Not being sure of a woman's name has never stopped Mark Sloan before.

When it comes to checking a woman out, he has the perfect technique. He can increase his peripheral vision by over one hundred and fifty percent within an instant. He never stares for more than five seconds before nonchalantly going back about his business. With practice, it's become more than enough time to take in all the necessary details. accurate from over 20 feet away.

Like this nurse Tiffany (Tara?) here. In one quick, furtive look, Mark can see that she's 5'5" and about 125 pounds. She's got long tawny hair and dark green eyes, with full pouting lips. Her skin is nicely bronzed. It takes him a second more of calculation to determine that her breasts are about a 36C. The process is analytical, precise. He's like a machine specifically designed to undress women with his eyes.

The Nurse With A Name That Probably Starts With "T" is completely oblivious as he records her stats in his brain. She's just going to keep typing away at the Computer On Wheels on the opposite end of the hallway. The women, they never, _ever _notice. He smirks into his cappuccino, the cocky expression completely amazing as always. She's hot, he decides. Smoking hot. Under normal circumstances, Mark would have her in an on-call room in an instant.

Mark Sloan could, would, and probably should go after that nurse. Ever since high school, he's believed in the fact that any woman he sees can be his if he so chooses. He's attractive, smart, witty, kind, persistent, and _attractive_. It's like his own Manifest Destiny; his own divine, God-given right to be with the woman of his choice. What Mark wants, Mark will want until he finds a way to get it. Addison was the one to repeal this "doctrine" for the longest, but, even the best sometimes can't win.

It's obvious and certain that Mark can be with this woman. He sees no wedding ring (that didn't stop him before) and she hasn't indicated in any other way that she wouldn't be interested. He's totally free to walk up to her and ask her if she wanted to join him for a drink. She'd probably swoon and promptly accept.

He could do it with no problem.

But. He can't.

He realizes that he just plain doesn't want to. Without warning, the thrill is gone. Completely disappeared.

His nostrils flare as he aggressively gulps down the rest of his beverage, savoring the scalding feeling traveling down his throat. He doesn't get it. He doesn't know what's been wrong with him lately. Because this guy that he is right now, this guy that doesn't want to hit on the hot nurse? Totally unrecognizable. He crosses his arms, eyes on the floor.

With time, the real Manifest Destiny died out. If he remembers his history correctly, after the United States annexed the Philippines, the expansionist era was pretty much over. His own Manifest Destiny seems to be heading that way as well. It's really a shame; he enjoyed that chase a lot.

The question is _why_ it's dying, though. The turn of the twentieth century did it for the real one. His, though...his is an uncaused and unjustified extinction.

Then, Sadie and Lexie Grey enter his radar. They're laughing pretty hard about something, probably an off-the-wall comment the blonde made. Mark's heard stories about her, things he was better off not knowing.

Lexie's laugh makes his ears perk up. It's the same noise she makes when he runs his fingers down her stomach or kisses that one spot on her neck. It's a sound that, for some reason, drives him wild. His eyes flit to the side, locking in on her. He takes in her sleek dark hair and her chestnut eyes, which squint as she giggles.

Then, suddenly, her eyes catch with his for a split second, glimmering with amusement under the fluorescent lights. His jaw embarrassingly drops a bit before he can bring it under control. He can feel it again, the same rush that his Manifest Destiny brings (or once brought) him.

And, after that, it clicks. The pieces come together. He knows.

Manifest Destiny might have met its unexpected match.


End file.
